Autumn (3 page)

“Max.”

“Is he telling you what kind of nail polish would look best with your complexion?” Cooper teased.

Mia didn’t look amused. “Gay jokes? Could you
be
more Texas cliché, Coop? Next thing I know you’ll be joining the NRA and voting Republican.” She slipped her phone into her purse and shook her head so her long black bangs covered her eyes.

“Jesus, Mia. I was joking. And besides, it wasn’t a gay joke. It was an observation that your boyfriend wears more makeup than you do.”

She huffed.

“What’s wrong with the NRA? I remember you shooting guns with me and Dad when you were little.”

He knew he’d made a mistake the second the
D
word left his mouth. Much like the Reynolds family’s ban against discussing Jer, they also didn’t bring up their absentee patriarch.

The men in their family had a long-standing tradition of bailing, and the ones left behind were well-practiced in the art of pretending it never happened.

Cooper quickly covered his ass by adding, “And shouldn’t your Democrats be happy there’s a society that labels gun owners?”

“
Your
Democrats?” Mia snapped, and Cooper let out a sigh of relief. Playing the political card had been a good call. “How can you be so ignorant?”

Politics was a hot-button issue for Mia. At fifteen she fancied herself quite liberal, and by extension determined anyone who
wasn’t
had to be a Republican. Being Republican, in Mia’s opinion, was about as evil as being a Satanist. Cooper reminded her, “I’m seventeen, Mia. I don’t vote.”

“And in a year, when you can? Are you still going to be stupid about it?”

Cooper wanted to point out it would be at least three years before he’d have to vote in a major national election, but he’d probably get a list of all local elections he’d be expected to participate in before then.

Mia would need a bigger purse if she was going to carry her soapbox with her wherever she went.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight with you,” he said, trying to take the high road. “Look, why don’t we go to Walmart and get some new school stuff, and when we’re done there, I’ll take you to that thrift store in Collinwood you like.”

Mia stared at him thoughtfully. He knew it wasn’t in her nature to back down from an argument, but he also knew she had no way to drive to Collinwood to buy flowy skirts and black tops that made her look like a witch or a reject from a Fleetwood Mac album cover.

“You’re not going to make me buy notebooks with flowers or dolphins on the cover, are you?”

“What the hell do I care what kind of notebooks you buy? I’m not mom. And do you think
she
cares if your binder is girlie? She carries a gun, for crying out loud.”

“But she
does
have pink handcuffs.”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get the stuff and go. It’s a twenty-minute drive to Collinwood. I’ll be lucky to catch the last four innings, and that’s
if
you don’t try on a million things.”

They worked their way down to the Walmart with only a brief sidetrack to the Orange Julius counter so Mia could get an enormous mocha-something smoothie, and Cooper purchased a bottle of Coke. Mia held the shopping basket when they got to the store and surprise, surprise, loaded it up with all-black goodies. Cooper was pretty sure most of his stuff from the previous year was still in passable shape, but the presence of his mother’s credit card in his wallet made him feel obligated to buy
something
.

The sports-themed notebooks he used to favor seemed a little juvenile for his senior year of high school, so he opted for a few basic colored ones and some fancy pens he’d probably lose by Homecoming.

He was investigating a graphing calculator when a familiar voice asked, “Hey, Reynolds.”

Twisting his neck, he peered over his shoulder to see the football team’s starting defenseman, Lyndon Fletcher, staring at him. Lyndon looked as if he’d just staggered out of the stone ages. He was a big guy for any age, well over Cooper’s six-foot height, and pushing three hundred pounds. He had a broad, flat nose and a Cro-Magnon sloped forehead that made him look permanently puzzled. Which was pretty accurate, all things considered. His hair was shoulder length and stringy, and he always smelled like Slim Jims.

“Lyndon,” Cooper replied. He didn’t feel like chatting with the other guy for too long, but it would have been rude to just walk away. Not that Lyndon was too big on social graces.

“You getting your school shit?”

Cooper glanced down at the calculator in his hands. Mia had wandered off down one of the other aisles—which probably meant she was actually in cosmetics—leaving him no easy escape route from the conversation.

“Yeah, helping my sister get some stuff, figured I’d grab a few things. You?”

Lyndon stared into the basket in his hands as if he’d only then realized he was carrying it. A case of Red Bull and a bag of sour cream and onion chips were partially covered by a single spiral-bound notebook.

“Sure.” Ever the scintillating conversationalist.

“Well, good to see you.” Cooper turned back to the shelf and replaced the calculator, then pretended to study another one.

“Hey, you hear the news?”

For a moment Cooper considered acting as if he hadn’t heard the question, but it seemed unlikely to deter the course Lyndon was on, so instead Cooper asked, “What news?”

“Libby took a summer job at the school office to add some sort of, like, volunteer bullshit to her college applications or whatever.” Libby Tanner was Lyndon’s on-and-off-and-on-and-off girlfriend. Last Cooper had heard they were off, but apparently that didn’t stop Libby from talking to her ex. “Anyway, she said yesterday they got a new transcript.”

“Okay.” Cooper had no idea what the point of this was, and it hardly qualified as
news
.

“New transcript means new student,” Lyndon explained, like Cooper was the slow one of the two of them.

That
was
news. “Did Libby get a name?” The last time they’d had a new student had been in middle school, and in spite of four years passing since Malik had come to them from Pittsburgh, he was still called
the new kid
. That was how rarely new students came to Poisonfoot.

“Eloise something.”

“Eloise?” Cooper wrinkled up his nose, conjuring a mental image of a chubby girl with pigtails and Coke-bottle glasses. For some reason his mental Eloise also had a French beret. He blamed Mia’s childhood storybooks for that one. “That doesn’t sound too promising.”

Lyndon shrugged. “I dunno, man. It’s just a name. Doesn’t mean she can’t be a hottie.”

There were scarce pickings at their school to begin with, and those girls were ones Cooper had spent his whole life around. It barely mattered that he’d known them almost since the womb, because none of them spoke more than five words a week to him.

If there was a new girl, it might not make a difference if she had six eyes and a mustache. If she was willing to talk to him, she’d already be an improvement.

“She’s a junior. Coming from California.”

California? Why in God’s name would someone leave California to come to
Poisonfoot
? “Why?” was all Cooper managed to verbalize.

“Libby said there was something in the transcript about counseling for bereve…um, ber…you know. When someone croaks?”

“Bereavement?” Cooper offered.

“Yeah, that.”

So this mystery Eloise was coming here because someone she knew had died. Awesome. A broken chick with an ugly name.

At least Malik wouldn’t have to be the new kid anymore.

Chapter Four

The sun seemed to vanish the moment Lou and her mom crossed into Texas. It was still midafternoon, but a wall of clouds met them at the border and kept following them the whole way through the state. They’d spent the night in a dive motel just off the highway, and Lou’s body was still aching from the lumpy mattress. She might not be thrilled about moving, but at least tonight she’d get to sleep in a real bed.

“Hon, before we get there, I need to tell you something about your grandma.”

“I already know not to play my music loud and to be polite.”

Her mother gave a thin smile. “And while I appreciate that, it isn’t what I meant.”

Lou pivoted in her seat, pulling both ear buds out. Her mother’s grim expression brought a wave of anxiety crashing over Lou that made it difficult for her to breathe.

“Is she dying?” It was now Lou’s greatest fear that the people in her life were suddenly going to expire. Hadn’t her father seemed healthy enough until the cancer took him? Granny Elle was old. What if she was about to find out her grandmother’s days were numbered?

“What? No. Oh, honey, no.” Her mom took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. Nothing like that. It’s just your grandma, is…well, she’s a bit weird.”

“Aren’t most old people?”

Mom laughed. “Yes, that’s true. But Elle…she has some strange superstitions, and she was raised a lot differently than you or me. If she says anything that seems crazy to you, just go with it, okay?”

“Like what?” Now that death was no longer a concern, Lou wanted to know what kind of kooky madness she was moving in with. Plus she got a kick out of adults gossiping about each other.

“Oh, I don’t know. She thought we ought to have moved home when your dad got sick. She was convinced coming to Poisonfoot would save him.” She shrugged. “Power of prayer or something? Anyway, I just wanted to warn you about it so she wouldn’t upset you if she brought it up. She’s quite into the herbal healing and holistic stuff.”

“Are you calling Granny Elle a witch?”

Her mom snorted and held her hand out for a handful of Cheetos. “Pretend I didn’t laugh at that.”

“Then I’ll pretend you didn’t imply it.”

When they finally pulled into Granny Elle’s driveway, it was near sundown on Saturday night. The house was situated on the outskirts of town and set back in the woods, so it was impossible to see the road from the house and vice versa. When they wound up the gravel path, Lou was sure there should be flashes of lightning in the background and a howling, moody soundtrack on the radio.

The place looked like it had fallen out of a Gothic horror novel and been transplanted into West Texas.

It was Victorian in style with a big wraparound porch that was at complete odds with the two turrets on either side of the house’s front wall. The turrets rose to points, with pristine green shingles blending into the color of the surrounding trees. One roof had a weather vane shaped like a howling wolf, and the other had a tall spire sticking up into the air.

Juxtaposed with the old architecture was the satellite dish mounted under a window on the turret wall.

The white paint had faded to a gray shade over the years, but it didn’t appear to be peeling. Considering the house was owned by a woman in her eighties it was in remarkably good shape.

Lou swung her messenger bag over her shoulder and tucked her hair into her Dodgers cap. She followed her mom from the truck up to the front porch, but before either of them could knock, the screen door swung open and the familiar figure of Granny Elle filled the frame.

“Well ahn’t you two dahlings a sight for sore eyes,” she drawled, drawing them in for a tight hug, showing surprising might for someone of her stature. Granny Elle was short and plump, her white hair framing her face in quintessential grandma curls. She hadn’t yet started using glasses, claiming her eyesight was still perfect. But otherwise she might as well have been the photo in the dictionary next to
grandmother
.

Dress her in red and white fur and she could have easily passed for Mrs. Claus.

“Are y’all hungry? I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, so I’ve just been cooking all day.” She chuckled and wiped her spotless hands on the apron she had strung around her waist. “Oh my, Miss Eloise. Take off that nasty cap and let Granny Elle have a good look at you.”

Lou obliged, removing the hat and shaking her hair loose so it tumbled around her shoulders.

“My my my.” Granny Elle looked her over, pinching her chin so Lou was forced to turn her head side to side. She felt like one of the dogs at those silly exhibitions on TV. Like she was a pug whose full name was Lady Princess Whittington Rosebud Arabesque the Fifth or something. She smiled politely at her grandma. “Well, you’ve become a beautiful young woman, you know.” She said
beautiful
as
bee-oooo-tiful
.

“Thank you, Granny Elle.”

The smell of fresh bread wafted out from the kitchen, and Lou’s stomach growled.

“Mary Anne, haven’t you been feeding this girl?” Granny Elle scolded.

“More often than you could possibly imagine,” Lou’s mother countered, mirroring Lou’s patient smile.

“Well come on in, ladies. Food’s ready. We’ll unload you once we’ve eaten. I asked some of the gents in town to stop by in the morning to help with the furniture. It simply wouldn’t do to have us girls doing heavy lifting.” She clucked her tongue at the very idea. “And Miss Eloise, don’t you worry. I called that new school of yours to make sure your records came through, and they ahh just
so
excited to have you. I made sure the nurse knew what to expect.”

Lou frowned. She knew Granny Elle meant well, but she didn’t like the idea of her grandmother discussing her health with a total stranger. Provided she took good care of herself, the nurse never needed to be involved in the situation, so why was Granny Elle making such a big deal out of it?

“Elle, you didn’t need to do that. I’d already confirmed the transfer weeks ago, and I spoke to the nurse about her medical needs.” Lou’s mom was trying to keep her composure—Lou recognized the strain around her mouth—but if Granny Elle noticed the annoyance, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Thanks,” Lou said again, hoping to diffuse the pressure brewing between her mother and grandma.

After Granny Elle had stuffed them with homemade buttermilk biscuits and pulled pork—and her grandma had applauded her for not being
one of those vegetarian hippies
—they started hauling bags and small boxes off the U-Haul. Or, more specifically, Lou and her mom unloaded bags and boxes while Granny Elle offered them suggestions on how to best use their knees when lifting.